


Wistful Thinking

by Casy_Dee



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casy_Dee/pseuds/Casy_Dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Felicity has a really bad date, Oliver is there to wipe her tears... and wash the blood out of her hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set shortly after the season 2 finale.

Wistful Thinking 

Felicity took a deep breath, steeling herself for the upcoming confrontation. She didn't know why she was nervous. Because of Oliver, was her next traitorous thought. Oliver and his stupid handsome face and sincere eyes. So open, so sincere, that she’d actually believed him when he said he loved her, and it hurt more than it should have. Oliver with his excuses and his backtracking. Unthinkable that the two of them could ever be more… and he hadn't argued. Hadn't said a word. That told her everything she needed to know. She packed her feelings for him away in a little dark corner and told herself it was best to never explore them too closely. She deserved better, and she was determined move on and try and have some semblance of a social life. Oliver didn't need her every single night. She could date if she wanted to. He would just have to adapt. 

“Oliver, I need to leave early tonight.”

He glanced over at her, quirked an eyebrow, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Better than fine. Great, even. I just have a date.”

“Oh.”

Was it her imagination, or did that syllable sound strained?

“You need some time off,” he nodded, “have a good time.”

It was her imagination. She bit her lip and swiveled back to face the monitor, stung by his casual acceptance. She’d expected at least a token protest from him. That more than anything told her she was doing the right thing.

Oliver set aside the arrows he’d been working on and stripped off his shirt, heading for the salmon ladder. Felicity’s eyes traveled down the length of his body, lingering on his rather impressive abs before averting her eyes. If she had to watch the play of muscles across his half-naked body while he trained in front of her she’d never leave. She frowned as she heard the clank of the bar against the rungs move at a punishing pace. Surely he wasn't going out tonight if he was putting in such an intense workout.

“Staying in tonight?” she asked as she heard him pause.

“No. Hey, where are you going? Just in case I need you?” he asked in-between rungs.

Damn it, he had dates before, and there had been a couple of times when he’d ignored her calls while on them. She wanted to tell him that if he needed her, he’d just have to wait, but she couldn't do it. She imagined him suiting up tonight, and he would, and something happening. The thought of him lying in the street bleeding out because of her principles wasn’t something she was willing to live with. 

He paused in the up position, waiting for her answer. 

She turned to face him, “Lotus for dinner, and drinks after if it goes well.”

Her eyes followed the droplets of sweat dripping down lines of taut muscle. She really liked watching him do that. She doubted her date had Oliver’s body. When the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile, she realized she’d said that out loud. Blushing, she swiveled around again. Oliver picked up the pace on the salmon ladder. He was certainly putting in a good workout tonight. Maybe he’d change his mind and stay off of the streets. She finished up her scan and gathered her things.

“Night, Oliver.”

He gave her a nod, but didn’t stop long enough to speak to her. Fine. She’d get out of there if that’s how little it mattered to him.

Her date, Jason, was handsome. Dark hair, big green eyes, and a respectably strong jawline. She’d met him when he spilled her latte at Starbucks, and then bought her another one. They ended up chatting for a while and then said he’d like to take her to dinner. She’d gotten a little tongue tied, but she’d managed not to babble for once. Her teeth hurt she’d clenched them together so hard, but she hadn’t said anything ridiculous to him, just said yes. Miracles apparently did happen. 

She bought a new dress for the occasion, curled her hair and pinned it half up, half down and put in her contacts. She took her time with her make-up, and even did her nails in a coordinating color. She surveyed herself in the mirror and smiled. Oliver didn’t know what he was missing. She may not compare to beautiful Laurel or gorgeous Sara in his eyes, but when she put the time and effort in, she thought she looked pretty good. How she looked wasn’t usually her problem anyway… it was what came out of her mouth. 

The date should have went well. Jason picked her up on time, and took her to a sushi place that she really adored. The problem was that she didn’t have anything in common with Jason, and thanks to all the time she spent with Oliver and Diggle, she didn’t have anything to talk about. Usually that would be her cue to babble, but she didn’t get the chance because Jason didn’t stop talking about his two favorite things long enough to catch his breath: his investment portfolio and his “crazy” ex-girlfriend. That wasn’t even the biggest problem. The biggest problem was that he wasn’t Oliver, never would be Oliver, and Oliver would never ask her out to dinner. They could never be together. Unthinkable. She’d made a mistake going out on a date before she was ready for it. Jason wasn’t like Barry, who she genuinely liked spending time with, who she could at least still think of as a friend even though he had a sort-of thing with a woman named Iris. She would have still enjoyed eating dinner with him. She just wanted to get through this meal and go home.

Jason asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink after he paid the ticket. She declined, saying they didn’t have much in common, and they should just call it a night. He blamed nerves, saying she was smart and beautiful and he was just so nervous and he begged her just to have one drink with him. She needed a drink. Several, really, and it was flattering to think she’d made him nervous enough to act like an idiot. She could sympathize, so she let him take her to a nearby club. Maybe the date wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Just one,” she’d acquiesced, figuring she might as well let him get her started.

He ordered for her, something she thought of as patronizing rather than chivalrous. She wanted a glass of wine (and it was going to be an expensive one because, yeah.) Instead she was handed a giant lime green cocktail.

“It’s fruity. A girl drink, you’ll like it.”

She rolled her eyes but took a sip, “What is it?”

He grinned, “It’s called a Liquid Marijuana.”

Much like its name promised, by the time she’d made it through the drink she was feeling its effects. On the plus side, Jason was a little less annoying once she had a buzz if she just focused on his face. A little bit. Not enough for her to have another drink. Jason had several in the time it took for her to get down her sweet pineapple concoction. The conversation only got worse, and she regretted not going home earlier, especially because he seemed to think buying her a drink entitled him to put his hands all over her body.

“Jason, thanks for the dinner, and the uh… liquid thing, but I really need to call it a night.”

“After one drink?”

“Yeah, I have to work tomorrow. Very early. I shouldn’t have even gone out tonight.”

“Come on, Felicia, loosen up! Have another drink. We’ll dance,” he leaned in close, “Go back to my place after,” he moved in to place a kiss on her neck.

She shifted backwards, “It’s Felicity, and I think you’re loose enough for both of us. Don’t worry about taking me home. I’ll get a cab.” 

He followed her as she pushed her way through the gyrating horde and out the front door to the cool evening air. As if she’d change her mind. Right. Not happening. Movement on the rooftop caught her eye. No one ever looked up there, but thanks to her other job, she did. She squinted at the rooftop and shook her head. Must have been wishful thinking. She’d seen a guy in the bar that she swore was Oliver, but when she got a clearer look, it wasn’t him. She’d blame the drink. What she’d give for Oliver to show up and rescue her from this one.

Jason grabbed her arm as she was in the process of calling a cab. He threw off her balance, which wasn’t so good right now after the giant liquor bomb drink, she wobbled and, to add insult to injury… literally… fell. Spectacularly. Her feet went up, and she landed flat on her back and cracked her head on the sidewalk. She blinked and groaned, reaching up to touch the sore spot radiating pure pain from her skull. Her fingers came away wet with blood. Jason just stared at her lying on the sidewalk bleeding, and then he giggled. Giggled! At her fall! Oliver would have picked her up. He would have carried her. He would have knelt down next to her and scooped her up in his arms, checked the bump on her head and fetched her an ice pack. Jason was no Oliver Queen, that was for sure. She burst into tears, embarrassed, mortified, and just plain sad that her date had gone so badly. Ironic that she was the one left lying in the street bleeding when she’d been worried about Oliver ending up in this predicament all night long. 

“See what happens when you turn down a guy after he buys you drinks and dinner?” Jason finally offered her a hand up. “Sorry. How about another drink?” 

She was bleeding and she’d ruined her new dress, and the last thing she wanted to do was have a drink with a man that had laughed at her clumsiness after he made her fall. She wanted someone to patch her up, concern in his soft blue eyes. Someone to ask her if she was okay. She wanted to go home. 

She slapped his hand away, and gingerly rose to her feet, “No.”

Jason flipped her off and went back inside. What a Prince Charming. She hailed a cab and had him drop her at the secondary Arrow cave. 

******

Felicity wiped away another tear. Her make-up must be destroyed by now. It was stupid. She shouldn’t be this upset. People had bad dates all the time. She’d had loads of bad dates before this one. Mortifying. That was a good word for her date. She’d just wanted one night… just one. She hiccupped, blew her nose and tried to compose herself.

“Oh, shut up!” she chastised herself, pressing an ice pack to her aching head. 

She should have just gone home. She wasn’t sure why she’d come here. Blame the head injury. As soon as she could pull her dignity around herself again, she’d go back to her apartment.

“Felicity?”

Oh, no. Oliver. Mortifying was definitely a good word.

“Felicity, what happened? Are you okay?” He knelt down in front of her when she refused to look at him, “Hey, talk to me. Why are you crying?”

She shook her head, wincing as it sent hammers pounding anew. If she spoke now it would all come tumbling out.

“You’re hurt,” he murmured, pulling the ice pack away from her head so he could get a closer look, “That’s a nasty bump, but you won’t need stitches. It needs to be cleaned.”

His fingers were so gentle as he checked her over, worry plain in his face. He tilted up her chin and stared into her eyes, “Maybe a slight concussion.” He scowled, “This happened on your date?”

“I just fell.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Did he hurt you, Felicity?”

She laughed, the sound coming out bitter and angry, “No.” Not on the outside.

His frown deepened, “And he left you like this?”

“It was a bad date. My luck. I don’t seem to attract very nice guys.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, hesitated for a moment and then pulled her into a hug. He smelled of leather and Oliver and her tears began to flow again despite how hard she’d been fighting to hold them back. This. This was what she wanted, what she needed, and what Oliver had told her by his words and actions that she could never have. It broke her heart and she needed to grieve for its loss, and if Oliver thought her tears were just about a bad date, then she’d let him. At least he’d handed her the syringe before she had time to tell him she loved him too. That would have made this moment impossible. As much as it had hurt, she understood, she was glad he trusted her and respected her, and she was glad he cared enough to give her that much. Maybe he did love her, just not love, love. But love, love was what she wanted.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. He didn’t deserve you, Felicity. You deserve so much more. You’re an intelligent, beautiful, amazing woman. Any man would be lucky to have you in his life.”

His arms tightened around her as her crying turned to sobs, and she almost thought she felt the brush of his lips on her hair. She closed her eyes and let him hold her until she was able to regain control. She was glad she had him, even if he saw her as only a friend. She pushed away from Oliver’s broad chest, “I’m fine, really. This was hardly my worst date. One time a guy showed up with his mother. Now that one was bad. Or the time the guy took me to a convenience store and bought me a beef jerky, or the time I went to the restroom and came back to find the guy had stolen my cell phone and my purse and left me there. After dinner, so I couldn’t even pay the check. I now take my purse with me. Or the time--”

“Let me take you home,” he interrupted, giving her that little smile that was just for her, “Unless I could talk you into going to the hospital?”

“No, I just want to go home. Thanks.”

He patted her shoulder and went to change into street clothes. 

“Hey, wake up. Time to go.”

She blinked up at him blearily, “Okay.” She stumbled as she got to her feet, but Oliver caught her before she could go down.

“Easy. Lean on me. I’ll stay with you tonight, check on you every couple of hours.”

“You really don’t have to--“

“Trust me. I really do.”

She tilted her head up to look as him, bemused by his strange choice of words. Her head hurt too much for her to argue. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues from last chapter, one car ride later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I often use musical inspiration to write, and my chosen song for this bit was Vermillion, pt II by Slipknot. Translations at the end.

Chapter 2

When she woke again, she was curled up against Oliver's chest and he was carrying her up the porch steps to her apartment.

"Your knee," she protested, trying to extricate herself from his arms.

"It's fine," he argued, lowering her down, but he kept his arm around her. "Your keys?"

She fished through her little evening bag and handed it to him when she couldn't make her fingers pluck them free. His frown deepened, but he fished them out and opened the door for her. She made it all of three steps before she faltered and would have fallen again if Oliver hadn't been hovering. Thankfully he was there to catch her before she went down, and despite her assurances that she was fine, he wouldn't let her go.

Oliver sat her down on the couch and knelt down to slip off her high heels, "You're sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Have you had any vomiting?"

"Positive," she made a face, "and only once."

If possible, his expression got even grimmer, "I'm taking you to a doctor first thing tomorrow morning. Sooner if you get worse."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine." She knew he was right about seeing a doctor, but she couldn't stomach the thought of sitting in an emergency room all evening after the night she'd had.

She let him help her into her bedroom when it became obvious that her balance was still shaky. He kept one hand on her elbow while she gathered a T-shirt and yoga pants to change into. She wanted out of her dress, spattered with vomit and grime from her fall and out of her make-up, smeared raccoon-like beneath her eyes. She definitely wanted the sticky blood matting her hair washed away and all of the bobby pins taken out. She wanted to wash the whole damn night away, and then she'd pretend it never happened.

"You can go now."

"No."

"I need to change clothes," she argued, "And I'm so not doing that with you in here."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Felicity, not when you could fall; I'll turn around while you change."

She wanted to argue, but a wave of nausea washed over her. Maybe he had a point. "Okay, but no peeking. Not that you'd peek at me, I mean. I'm not calling you a peeping Tom. Just that I don't want you-"

"Felicity."

She gripped the edge of the dresser as her stomach roiled, a wave of dizziness washing through her. She drew in a deep breath and let it pass. If she hacked again, she had the feeling Oliver would pick her up over his shoulder and drag her to the E.R., and where she'd fantasized about the first bit, the end destination wasn't part of her fantasy. She shimmied out of her dress, trying to hurry before she had another dizzy spell, but then the lace got caught on her earring. "Ow!"

Oliver half-turned, seemed to remember he wasn't supposed to look and turned back. "You alright?"

"Fine. Just caught up a little bit."

Her dress was up around her shoulders, her dangly gold and rhinestone earring tangled inside the fuchsia lace, pulling on her earlobe painfully. She wriggled and shifted, but all she did was make it worse. She was caught fast and she wouldn't get free without help. She was standing in her bedroom wearing a nearly invisible black lace thong and matching push-up bra (hey, she wanted to feel pretty) with her new dress rucked up around her neck. With Oliver.

"Worst. Night. Ever. And let me tell you, I've had some bad nights. I'm stuck. My earring is caught and I can't get my dress off."

Oliver chuckled as he turned to face her, "It's not the first time I've seen- "he swallowed hard, cleared his throat, "Um. I'll just get this."

His face got that strange blank look he wore sometimes as he worked to free the dangly earring from the delicate lace. She was too busy dying of embarrassment to worry about Oliver. Her nerves got the best of her, and as usual, that meant her mouth ran off without consulting her brain.

"This is really not how I imagined this. Not that I imagined being half naked in my underwear with you. I mean, I hadn't ever imagined we'd be naked together like this. Stopping. Done talking."

"Thank-you," he replied, his voice tight.

After a few tense minutes he gave up on untangling the earring and instead removed it from her earlobe, and then gently lifted the dress over Felicity's head before turning back around. She pulled her other clothes on, anxious to get out of her bedroom. "Okay. You're safe."

"нисколько," he muttered.

"What?" she asked. It sounded like a curse to her.

"Let's take care of that head wound, and then I'll get you into bed." He snapped his mouth shut, realization dawning at the double entendre.

Felicity quirked an eyebrow, "No fun, is it?" she teased.

Oliver shook his head ruefully, but he gave her one of his rare true smiles. He took her elbow to steady her and led her into her bathroom, "Let's get you cleaned up. "

He placed her little stool in front of the sink, helped her to sit, and then pushed her hair away from where she'd struck her head against the concrete. He pulled out a few of the hair pins that secured the top of her hair in an intricate pile, his fingers gentle as he probed the edges of the wound. She closed her eyes, his body was so near she could feel the warmth of his skin. As bad as her head hurt, and it felt like the mother of all migraines, she could close her eyes and go to sleep wedged between the cool tile of her bathroom counter and Oliver's soft touch, his breath warm against her cheek as he inspected the damage.

"Stay with me, Felicity. Just a little longer and I'll let you sleep."

She tried to tell him she understood, but it came out like "Mmmpff." She did manage to open her eyes, so that was something.

"This is going to sting," he warned as he proceeded to clean out the abrasion and then disinfect it.

She clenched her teeth and managed not to make too much noise as he worked, "Being shot is worse," she commented.

"Yeah," Oliver agreed.

He took a careful look at her, "Definitely a minor concussion, you should be fine. No long term effects, but you should be scanned anyway, just in case. I'll take you in the morning."

Felicity smiled, "Diggle said I was irreplaceable. What good would I be without my brains? I'd be placeable."

Oliver snorted, "Diggle was right, and I'm sure your brains are fine. You'll probably have a bad headache tomorrow. Maybe memory loss, some dizziness and vertigo."

"Oh, I pick memory loss! My date! Can I forget that part?"

A corner of Oliver's lips lifted, "I don't think it works quite like that."

He stayed near her as she washed off the remains of her make-up and eased the rest of the pins out of her hair. He settled her in her bed under the blankets and squeezed her hand, "I'll be in to check on you in a couple of hours. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had such a bad date."

"Wait. You can't fit on my couch. I have a big bed, just lay down here. I know you're not a perv like Jason Gropes-A-Lot."

"Jason?"

"My date. Ex-date. Who gropes. A lot."

Oliver's jaw clenched, "What was his last name again?"

Felicity smiled, "Oh, no you don't. Stop changing the subject. Bed."

"Felicity, I don't think that's a good idea. I can sleep on the floor, I've slept in worse places."

"Why not? I can barely keep my eyes open. I won't even know you're there."

"Because… It's just… I-"

"See, no reason. You need your rest, Oliver. You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping at all? Please. You're taking care of me, let me at least do this."

He sighed, but slipped off his shoes in climbed in next to her. She smiled at him and closed her eyes, "Thank-you."

"Yeah," he answered softly.

"I meant for taking care of me. Not used to that. It's nice."

An inscrutable expression crossed his face, but he just nodded at her. She closed her eyes, satisfied that he'd listened to her and would maybe get some sleep for once. His mother's death weighed on him harder than he'd like to admit to anyone, least of all himself. He seemed determined to torture himself for it. She could at least make sure he didn't spend a restless night sleeping on her floor or trying to cram his ginormous frame into her love seat. It was a king sized bed. How bad could it be?

They'd started out with a full two feet between them on the bed, but when she next regained consciousness, she was curled up tightly against Oliver, her head resting on his chest. His arm encircled her, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. His eyes were closed, all the hard lines of his face softened and relaxed. Thinking it was a dream, she draped her arm across his torso and snuggled closer. He froze, muscles tense under her, dragging Felicity out of her cocoon of slumber. She registered that her body was flush against him, she was cuddling with Oliver, but she couldn't make herself push him away, as much as she knew she should, and he didn't push her away either. Warm, safe, content, she let sleep pull her back under.

"Felicity. Felicity, wake up. Hey. Hey!"

She murmured and tried to sink back into sleep.

"Damn it, please. I knew I should have made you go to the hospital tonight. Felicity!"

She cracked open her eyes, "Mmm?" Once she saw the panic in his face she struggled to wake, "I'm awake. See? It's okay, Oliver." She covered her face with her hand, "Ugh. But more sleep. Please."

He pressed his lips together, "You need to talk to me first. It took you a while to wake up. How's your head?"

"Hurts, now that I'm awake again," she glared at him, then shifted on the mattress, missing his soothing warmth. She glanced over at him, "Can I go back to sleep?"

He frowned, "Do you feel okay other than your head? Look at me. It's important that you tell me if you start feeling worse."

Felicity blinked slowly, trying to make her fuzzy thoughts focus, "I feel the same. Sleepy. Headache. Big headache. Dizzy. Embarrassed. Angry. Sad. Mostly sleepy. And nauseated."

He turned on the lamp, making her wince against the onslaught of brightness. Who thought such a little bulb could put out the same number of lumens as a supernova? He tilted her chin up, looking into her eyes once more. After a moment, he turned the lamp off again.

"Okay. You can sleep now."

She tried to get comfortable again, but her head pounded, and she was so drowsy but she couldn't fall asleep. She shifted, twisted and turned, each movement making the aching in her skull that much worse. That was enough. She'd had it. She'd had a horrible day, she felt terrible, and she just wanted to sleep. A tear fell. She dashed it away and turned her back to Oliver.

"Felicity? What is it?"

"I don't feel so good," she answered, her voice trembling.

His brow furrowed, "Worse now?"

"No. No worse, I just want to sleep and I can't. I was sleeping so well before you made me wake up." It was so hard to think clearly, her thoughts as lethargic as her body, she just knew she wanted to feel better, "Sorry. I don't know why I'm..." she waved her hands, at a loss for words.

"Concussions can mess with your emotions. It'll pass. Can I get you something? Water?"

"I need my pillow." She molded her body against his and laid her head on his chest, daring him with a bleary glare to argue. "You're really comfy and I want to sleep. I know you don't think of me like that. Don't worry, what happens in concussion, stays in concussion," she slurred.

"Я не могу перестать так о тебе думать," he murmured, but draped his arm over her once again.

Russian again. One of these days she was going to plug him into a translate app. "I don't speak Russian. Can you try Latin? I speak Latin. For SATs, not for, you know, conversation."

Oliver sighed, but relaxed underneath her, "Go to sleep, Felicity."

Lulled by his presence, she finally did.

"Felicity. Felicity, you need to wake up for me again, just for a minute."

She blinked up at him blearily, "Oliver?"

"Yeah. Last time, okay?"

She sat upright for him again as he asked her a few simple questions: age, full name, year she graduated M.I.T. She answered, even if her mind did still seem to be moving slower than normal.

"Yay. Passed the pop quiz. Do I get a prize?"

Oliver gave a soft laugh. His eyes dropped to her lips and back to her eyes again, his lips parted. She may have a head injury, but the way he was looking at her wasn't exactly like partners looked at each other. His jaw firmed and he looked away, and when he looked back at her, all traces of the moment were gone from his clear blue gaze, "Yes. You get to go back to sleep and I won't disturb you again until morning."

"Hey, Oliver? Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you tell me you loved me? You didn't have to say that. It was enough for Slade. The first part… wrong woman part."

His eyes widened. She'd caught him fully by surprise. She could see him searching for a way out of the question. Probably bad timing to ask, but her filter was working worse than usual and it just kind of slipped out. She genuinely didn't understand, and like any mystery, she wanted the answer.

"I don't know. I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry. That wasn't fair."

She peered up at him, "Wasn't fair, or it wasn't true?"

He sighed, "I-"

"I just want to understand," she gave him a small smile, blinking back the tears rising in her eyes. How could he look at her like that and expect her to ignore it? "Never mind. Don't answer. Concussion."

He shook his head, "No. What I said… I'm sorry. I had no right to say those words to you, not like that. Felicity, I was telling the truth when I said you deserve someone better, and I wish I-" he stopped and shook his head, "I need you. I need you as my partner and my friend, and I won't risk losing you." Oliver's face, open and vulnerable, begged for her acceptance, for her understanding.

She understood what he said, but she struggled to understand what he wasn't saying. He hadn't answered her question. Not really. He wasn't ready to, maybe not even to himself. She wanted to call him an idiot.

Instead she just nodded, "It's okay, Oliver. You said it yourself, I'll always be your girl."

His face fell for a second before his guard came back up. She didn't think it was how he wanted things either, but that's how he'd decided they were going to be.

She smiled, and if it was bitter, then maybe she had a reason for it, but the fact remained that Oliver was her friend, and she wasn't going to risk losing him either. Maybe things would be different someday.

She lay down again, turned on her side away from him and closed her eyes, "Good night, Oliver."

"Night, Felicity."

She replayed the night in her head. The no good, rotten, horrible, very bad date, Oliver taking care of her, the feeling of Oliver holding her closely, the look on his face when he told her he loved her, the look on his face when he told her he couldn't be with someone he could really care about. Her composure crumbled. She tried to stay silent as the tears fell, but it was too much all in one day. She swallowed it down, but not well enough to fool Oliver.

He leaned over her, his hand on her shoulder, "Felicity?"

"I think you should go," she pushed against him, but he didn't budge.

"Why are you crying? Not because of me?" he begged, his voice soft.

She couldn't answer.

His breath hitched, "Yes," he whispered. "I meant it, and I owe you the truth. Can't lie to you."

She turned to look up at him, his face so serious in the pale light, "But it doesn't change things, does it?"

"No."

She nodded, gave him a sad smile. She understood. He was still an idiot, but she understood.

After a moment he lay down again and pulled her against him. He kissed her forehead, "I never wanted to hurt you. I can't hurt you. I can't-"

"Shh. I know, Oliver. I understand. Just sleep, okay?"

"Yeah."

****

Felicity stretched, wincing as she registered throbbing pain inside her skull. She let out a scream as she realized she wasn't alone in her bed.

Oliver came awake with a start, his eyes wild before they cleared and focused on her. "You okay?"

She shook her head, "Ow." She put her hand to her head, wincing. "No. Horrible headache. What happened? Why are you in my bed? How am I in my bed?"

"What do you remember?"

"Date. Bad date," she made a face. "I fell. That's about it. That's kinda scary."

Oliver gave a short humorless laugh, "Short answer, I took you home, you changed clothes and then went to sleep. I'll fill you in on the way to the E.R."

"Did you stay the night with me? I mean sleep over…" she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "What I mean, not what I said. Can we get coffee on the way?"

"Yes, and definitely."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him. She'd gotten pretty well versed in studying Oliver Queen, and he was wearing his sad face. Had she yelled at him or something?

"Everything okay, Oliver?"

He nodded and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, "Yeah. Long night. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thanks for staying with me."

He nodded, "Of course."

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh, I know. Angsty, wasn't it? What can I say, that's where these two are in my mind. Concussions wreak havoc on your emotions, and poor Oliver bore the brunt of it this time around. I think it was good for him. Thanks for reading, and comments are love. :-D Please feed my muse.
> 
> Russian translations:
> 
> нисколько : Not at all
> 
> Я не могу перестать так о тебе думать : I can't stop thinking about you so (in that way)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So there is a lot of debate to whether Felicity knew, didn't know about the bait and switch plan. Regardless of which side of the fence you're on, and there are good arguments on both sides, I firmly believe that the "I love you" portion of it was unplanned and caught Felicity off-guard. Oliver too, me thinks. Anyway, I think Felicity is easily convinced that Oliver couldn't possibly feel anything like that for her... even if it's right in front of her. Hope you enjoyed it. If so, please let me know. :) Speeds the muse along, you know.


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